Preferences
by jmi
Summary: ATTENTION! This fic is officially abandoned. My partner is adapting the RP this was based on into a novella with my blessing. Good luck, koishii!A young Tier'Dal Shadow Knight is ordered to deal with the stress that is affecting his training. His father
1. Choices Made

_**ATTENTION: This fic is officially abandoned 11/01/2006. My partner (Llythande) is adapting the RP this was based on into a novella with my blessings. Good luck, koishii!**_

_**OLD Author's Notes:** I'm taking a few liberties with the structure of Tier'Dal society. Given they are ruled by a queen I'm going to assume the have a society similar to the Drow. Now I've never played Dungeons and Dragons myself so I'm basing my characters responses off the loose grasp I have on how Drow matriarchal society functions. Major hugs and kisses to my koishii, Saishi (aka Llythande) for role playing with me, letting me post this, and being my beta reader.  
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The Shadow Knight crossed the courtyard with a determined stride that usually indicated he was ready to hone his increasingly lethal skills at the expense of one of the younger members of the Lodge of the Dead. When no one approached him for a challenge he started to search around. There was always the new blood, anxious to carve out a reputation for themselves, and as always the careless. He finally found a large number of the younger knights gathered around the far end of the arena, peering out through the columns towards their main room in the Lodge.

Llythande lifted a brow and started towards them. "New batch coming in, or is someone getting taken out?"

One of the other Tier'Dal turned and gestured towards two figures standing in the distance, shaking his head. "Maybe someone getting taken out. One of the Necromancer trainers is over there talking to our Guild Leader."

Llythande glanced across the distance and narrowed his silver eyes. His indigo skin paled slightly before he half muttered to himself. "What the hell is he doing here?..."

Wyvern D'Talianes nodded to the Shadow Knight trainer and crossed towards his son, smirking to himself as the younger recruits scattered from his presence. He stopped directly in front of Llythande and waited for his dark robes to settle around him. "Llythande. Walk with me."

Llythande nodded softly. "Yes, sir." He kept his gaze raised, but ignored the stares from around him as he moved into step beside his father.

Wyvern waited until they were out of earshot of the other trainees before he spoke again. "I had a visit from your Lady Mother today."

The Shadow Knight scowled as he kept pace with the elder Tier'Dal. "Well that was only a matter of time.… I take it that this is about my recent actions or lack thereof in the Third Gate tavern?"

Wyvern crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at his youngest offspring. "Yes. And the fact that your attention has been slipping so much in your live bouts that you're visiting her neophytes almost everyday for healing. She was ready to come here herself and drag you by your ear into Third Gate. I.. persuaded... her that it would be more comfortable if I came to speak with you first."

Llythande looked up at him, the silver glare matching his father's own hard gaze. "If it were her standing here, I wouldn't be able to say this... She can drag me off to Third Gate all she likes, she'll never convince me to even think about touching one of those painted harlots that pass themselves off as women."

Wyvern didn't back down from the challenging stare, having faced it more and more often in recent years. "Is that so? Is that the explanation for all your time among the clerics then? You've taken a fancy to some young priestess and think she would turn her head to look at you?"

The Shadow Knight glanced away, his hands remaining tightly clenched at his sides. "If that were true, I wouldn't leave as quickly as I do. They aren't where my interests lie, father."

"Then where 'do' your interests lie, Llythande? Surely not with those non-Tier'Dal whores that linger in the Foreign Quarter," the elder Necromancer added with a disgusted hiss.

Llythande nearly shouted but caught himself at the last second and lowered his voice once more so that it nearly came out a hiss. "Never!" He looked up at his father then, resignation in his eyes. "I know that I will be told to produce children someday... that much has been promised me numerous times by my trainers. Suffice to say that will likely be the only time I ever lay a willing hand on a woman."

Wyvern's glare became harder as his son's words sank in. "By Innoruuk! First your brother runs off practicing his heathen, pagan magics with The Spurned and now this. You two are out to push me from the Lodge in disgrace, I'd swear to it!" He snarled and spun on his son, robes and long white hair flowing almost unnaturally behind him. "Follow me, Llythande."

"My preferences will not push you from the Lodge. No one needs know of them, and my skill with the sword will keep most from looking too closely," Llythande vowed as he moved behind Wyvern, keeping his voice a hushed growl. "I will not dishonour you, father... or my Lady Mother."

"See that you don't, Llythande. Your Lady Mother and I are bearing enough grief over your fool of a brother." He led his son through the winding catacombs and stairs of the Lodge, climbing towards the higher rooms of the Necromancers.

Llythande frowned at his father's criticism of his older brother, but said nothing of his displeasure. It had been years since Watari had fled Neriak and reportedly died in an attack on the fortress of Highhold Pass. Llythande, however, knew better. His scholarly older brother was more likely to try and sneak into the humans' library than burn their outpost. No. He was out there somewhere in the wilds of Norrath, and one day Llythande swore he would find him. "Watari's foolishness holds no bearing on me, father. I serve Innoruuk and would die for Him, should that be His wish."

"His wishes are that we serve him to the best of our abilities, Llythande... which you are not currently doing." They turned towards the room where the neophyte Necromancers were performing autopsies on the slanted stone tables. Several students were grouped at each one, taking turns with the knives and tools while the others made notes in their scrolls.

Llythande narrowed his gaze faintly and glanced around the room. "I deal death, father, I don't revel in the aftermath. Why are we here?"

Wyvern waved off his students attention when they noticed him, ordering them to continue their work. He turned to his son, keeping his back to the group and his voice low enough that only Llythande could hear him. "We are here to deal with your unwillingness to relieve the tension that is affecting your performance."

Llythande froze and lookined up at him and keeping his voice a soft hiss. "You can't possibly mean me to just take one of them?"

Wyvern nodded, a stern expression in his violet eyes. "I most certainly do. Or would you rather take one of your own warrior companions and have their whispers spreading through the Lodge?"

Llythande growled faintly, knowing the barb was true but hating it none the less. "Fine..." He stepped to the side, his gaze raking across the room and its occupants.

The majority of the students were male, only a few females scattered here and there. Two were gathered at the table at the end of the row. One hissed and cursed until their _partner_ took the knife from her and began to clean up the mess she'd made of creating an incision along their body's arm. He turned the knife easily in his hand, working it so that none of the blood splattered or ran onto his still spotless gray robes.

Llythande lifted a brow, noting the lean form.. the still rounded, youthful lines of the other Tier'Dal's face.. the inky dark hair unusual for their race that was pulled back from the almost beautiful features by a simple tie. He watched for a few more moments before whispering faintly. "Who is that one?"

The Necromancer scanned the group, trying to follow his son's gaze. "On the end? The male is Raighne d'Arcamenel. He was admitted on a special scholarship _only_ due to his innate abilities in Necromancy."

A smirk pulled at the corners of Llythande's lips as he nodded. "I see..." He turned then, stepping back onto the stairs behind his father. "I want him."

Wyvern nodded, silently deciding Llythande's choice was most appropriate. "Very well. d'Arcamenel!" His voice carried in a low hiss across the room, instantly garnering the entire group's attention. "Come to me."

Raighne quickly passed the knife to one of the girls and hurried to bow in front of Wyvern. "Yes, Master?"

Llythande's smirk widened faintly, his gaze staying on the Necromancer as he kept quiet beside his father.

"You are excused from class, d'Arcamenel," the guild master stated with stern authority. "Gather your things."

Raighne looked up, a hint of panic in his silver eyes. "H-have I displeased you, Master?"

Wyvern shook his head. "No. You are being given a special assignment. This is Llythande of the Shadow Knights Guild. You are to accompany him and follow his dictates as you would mine. Your continued advancement in the Lodge will depend on your performance in this task. You will not discuss this with any of the other neophytes," the elder Tier'Dal promised with a hiss. "...or it will your body they practice their next lesson on. Is that understood?"

"I understand, Master." He bowed and quickly moved to gather up his scrolls and spellbooks. Shrugging off the inquiring questions of his female classmates, Raighne hurried back over and stood, gaze down in front of the pair.

Llythande ascended the stairs and stood in front of Raighne, tilting his head to the side faintly. "Are you so unsure of your own abilities?"

Raighne shook his head, but kept his gaze down. "No, m'lord. What I may apparently lack in size or combat skill I make up for in casting ability."

"I'm not referring to your size or combat skill," Llythande added, working to keep an amused tone from his voice. "I'm refering to the fact that anyone who follows Innoruuk with their entire being has no reason to cast their gaze upon the ground such as you are." He chuckled faintly and headed down the stairs. "Come with me."

Raighne followed behind him quietly until they were out of earshot of the autopsy room. "Until we are admitted as full members of the Lodge we must show respect to our Masters."

Llythande stopped, moving and turned so he was directly in front of Raighne, looking up at him from a few steps below. "There is a difference between respecting your Master and cowering before him. The next time you are in his class, look him in the eyes and let him know that you are truly listening and learning. I can guarantee that your reward will be far greater than if you keep your head bowed like some common serving wench."

Raighne looked the Shadow Knight in the face for the first time, pale eyes fixing to Llythande's. "He knows that I'm listening and learning. He may not admit it, but I am far superior to the others in my class."

Llythande smirked faintly, pleasantly surprised by the spirit peeking out in the necomancer. "Then show some pride in that fact. Your skills will stand for themselves." He started moving again, heading out of the Lodge and along the twisting paths of Neriak.

Raighne stayed closely behind Llythande, glancing casually around the city and its shops as they passed through.

The pair moved quickly out from the highly populated shops, a faint growl coming from Llythanded as they passed the worn shingle of the Maiden's Fancy. He led Raighne back along the far wall, the lake coming into view, as well as the larger buildings that made up the high houses of Neriak.

Raighne kept his gaze noticably away from the brothel until they were passed it. As they neared the wealthy homes, his eyes widened and mouth dropped open slightly in awe.

Llythande chuckled softly, his voice carrying back to him. "Don't get too excited. I don't stay in the main house... I come and go too frequently to trouble everyone else, so I have one of the small outer buildings to myself." He held open a door that lead into the protective wall, revealing a small courtyard and a building flush against the wall itself. "It's over there." He moved towards it then, glancing up towards the house as he made certain they weren't seen. "The guards don't patrol this side.. since no one can get this far into the city."

Raighne continued to look around, absorbing the new surroundings. "It's still magnificent, m'lord. I would live in a place like this someday."

Llythande smirked softly, but didn't turn around. He pushed open the door to the small house, stepping inside. Once they were both in, he closed the door behind them and headed towards one of the doorways leading off the main room. "Make yourself at home... leave your things on the table if you like and your cloak... then follow me."

Nervously Raighne placed his spellbook and scrolls on the table and laid his cloak over them. He glanced around the sparsely furnished dwelling, surprised that despite its modesty there were still hints of rank and priviledge in the very structure of the rooms. Shaking himself out of his awe he quickly crossed the room and passed through the door that Llythande had used.

The other Tier'Dal was removing his own cloak and laying it across one of the chairs. His belt followed behind it, and as Raighne entered the room, he pulled the finely wrought chainmail from his chest, lifting it over his head to leave the soft tunic and pants behind.

Raighne stood by the door, keeping his arms casually folded behind his back as he watched Llythande.

Llythande glanced to him, smiling faintly although his eyes narrowed as he watched Raighne. "Do you have any idea why you are here?"

Raighne could only shrug in response. "I'm here because my Master told me to go with you. Otherwise... I don't know, m'lord."

Llythande stepped towards him, his gaze flicking over the Necromancer appreciatively. "I noticed that you seemed uncomfortable as we were passing through Third Gate. Particularly near the Maiden's Fancy. Why was that?

The color deepened in Raighne's dark cheeks, but he tried to keep his gaze facing Llythande. "That's where I grew up, m'lord."

Llythande lifted a brow, almost passively. "Indeed? And what do you do when you and the others are ordered there for _'relaxation'_?"

Raighne coughed, this time dropping his gaze. "I cast illnesses on myself."

Llythande stared at the Necromancer for a few moments then chuckled softly. "I'll have to remember that trick when they finally teach us the spellcraft aspect. So do you avoid the place because you were raised there... or are there other reasons as well?"

"Just bad memories of that place." His voice dropped from the respectful tone it had maintained since they met to a dark hiss. "I have no desire to be there or see any of the spiteful whores that work there."

Llythande pressed one hand against the wall beside Raighne and leaned forward until he was only a few inches from the Necromancer. His voice was only a faint whisper, tinged with the same tone as Raighne's. "Why?..."

Raighne backed towards the wall until he couldn't move away from Llythande any more. "Because... they wanted my mother to get rid of me before I was born. They're not supposed to bear children to the clients that come there. She refused. After she had me she was relegated to _'servicing'_ only the low ranking members of the Indigo Brotherhood. A few years ago when she became sick from something one of those bastards gave her, they refused to get her help from the clerics and let her die."

Llythande sighed faintly, a hint of disappointment in his tone. "So you have a thing against guards, and very likely don't care too much for the profession that created you. No matter, it just makes things more difficult."

The smaller Tier'Dal was beginning to shake from Llythande's closeness. Something in the way the Shadow Knight spoke and moved set him on edge, but he didn't understand why. "What.. things, m'lord?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Llythande growled softly. He closed the distance, nearly pinning Raighne against the wall as his lips claimed the Necromancer's in a rough, heated kiss.

**_TBC..._**


	2. Choices Claimed

_**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the feedback on this. I apologize for being so long at getting more posted but with the removal of the NC-17 rating it's requiring a major rewrite of this chapter.  
  
An unedited version will be posted elsewhere online for those that wish to see the chapter in its original state._

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_**TEASER**_  
  
Raighne made a startled noise and pushed back against the stronger elf, but couldn't dislodge himself from the kiss. His struggles faded some after a few moments, leaving him wedged between the Shadow Knight and the wall, his robes twisting open from his movments.  
  
Llythande smirked faintly into the kiss, sliding his free arm around Raighne's waist and pulling them tightly together. He broke the kiss only after he felt the Necromancer beginning to struggle for breath. "They're right... you are a fast learner."  
  
Raighne leaned against Llythande, whispering unsteadily as he tried to get the air his lungs were burning for. "I-I'm here.. to follow your orders, m'lord."  
  
Stepping back, Llythande pulled on Raighne's arms and turned him to back him towards the bed. He leaned forward and nuzzled against the nervous Tier'dal's throat faintly as his hands slid beneath the robes. He kept down a moan as his hands moved freely over the smooth, dark skin. "And you're doing that perfectly."  
  
The young Necromancer jumped at the touches, tightening his hand against Llythande's sleeves as an involuntary gasp escaped his lips. "What.. do you want me to do, m'lord?"  
  
Llythande pulled back just enough to let his gaze rake over the other elf's face, his hand reaching up to brush the stray dark silk back on Raighne's head. He smiled then and shifted to rest on his knees as he watched the necromancer. "Remove your robe and lay it aside. Neatly... I don't believe your Master would appreciate wrinkles."  
  
Raighne backed away a few steps in startled shock. "M'lord. Wouldn't you.. be happier with one of the other neophytes? I've been told some of them are quite talented."  
  
Llythande gaze narrowed faintly. The change was minor but still malicious looking. His voice had taken on a low growl when he spoke again. "We are here to test the extent of your loyalty, not the extent of my patience."  
  
Raighne kept his eyes fixed on Llythande as he untied the belt and unhooked the strap across the open top. He let the now loose material slide down his lithe form and pool at his feet. Stepping from the now discarded robe he turned and bent to gather it up. Shaking it out he placed it neatly on a chair and turns to face Llythande again. "As you wish, m'lord."  
  
Llythande's smirk returned faintly. He tilted his head to the side and allowed his gaze move over the necromancer with undisguised lust. Not content with merely looking he stood and motioned Raighne closer. "Now it seems that I'm the one wearing too many clothes. Remove them for me."  
  
"Yes, m'lord." Raighne's blood boiled with disgrace at being made such a spectacle of. Had he been a whore like his mother he would understand why this Shadow Knight would strip and degrade him so. But what use could this Llythande have for him? He gathered the hem of the tunic and pulled it smoothly over Llythande's head, having to stretch on his toes to get it passed the taller Tier'Dal's extended arms. After folding it neatly next to his own clothes he knelt in front of Llythande and fingered the tight leather laces before guiding them down the steely muscled legs. He gasped faintly as the Shadow Knight's arousal sprang free of the material's constraints.  
  
Llythande reached down, running his fingers through the Necromancer's hair and guiding him closer. His fingers traced along one edge of Raighne's cheek as his breathing began to come faster. "Very good..."  
  
Raighne finished moving the trousers down until they gathered around Llythande's ankles. He leaned towards Llythande's fingers, a faint tremble shook his body despite the burning flush that heated his cheeks. "Now what do you want me to do, m'lord?"

A change in the smirk preceeded the swift movement of Llythande's hand. Fingers raked through the black hair at the back of the necromancer's neck and caught, pulling him up onto his knees fully. The result brought Raighne's lips a breath from the hard and wanting arousal of the Shadow Knight. "Show some initiative... sometimes it's a welcome thing."

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**_TBC....._**


End file.
